House of Skin (27 page)

“Bright boy, our Spider,” Cassandra said. “Let’s give it a whirl. Where is he?”

Eddy brought her into the next room. She set to work, handling his cadaver with the sort of respect only the dead have for their own. It was a lengthy, gruesome process opening him up and replacing his vitals with bags of herbs and salts and spices, injecting odd chemicals in certain locations. It took some time.

Eddy watched her as she worked. “Why did you come back?” he asked.

“For you. Who but me can take care of you? And you need looking after, you know. You’re making a real mess of things.”

Eddy didn’t contest the fact.

No man is an island.

Two days after Lisa had her run-in with William Zero, a visitor paid her a call at her hotel. She was a thin, dark beauty dressed in a black leather skirt and jacket. Her name was Cherry Hill.

Cherry had decided it was time they meet face to face again and talk. As she saw it, things were reaching critical mass, and it was in Lisa’s best interest to back off while there was still time. She planned only to convince her of this in the politest manner possible. And if the good doctor wouldn’t listen to reason, there were always alternate methods.

The desk clerk smiled at Cherry as she came in. He was a younger man, probably in his twenties, she thought, and as such, putty in her hands. As she made her way to the desk, she could feel his eyes running up and down her legs. She could sense his hunger and it was very much to her advantage.

“Good evening, miss,” he said. “May I help you with something?”

“I hope so. Is Dr. Lochmere in?”

“Yes, I believe so. But she left strict orders not to be disturbed.”

Cherry smiled. “Did she now?”

“Yes … well … she …”

Cherry was leaning over the desk now, giving him a good view of her cleavage. Her breasts weren’t large, but ample and firm. The clerk couldn’t help himself. He was no longer looking in her eyes. Cherry’s lacquered nails were drumming on the registration book.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Richard.” His voice was barely audible.

“Richard,” she said, rolling it off her tongue. “Dr. Lochmere left orders not to be disturbed, you say?”

“Well … actually it was Mr. Fenn who did and he’s, you know, a cop and all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, homicide.”

“Nasty business. You couldn’t just bend the rules a bit and tell her Cherry Hill is here, could you? We’re old friends. She’d want to see me.”

“No … no, I could get in trouble.”

Cherry licked her lips. “Is this Mr. Fenn with her now?”

“No, not right now,” Richard told her. “But he’s in and out all the time. I’m sure he’ll be back before long … and if I was to disturb her … you know how cops get … he’d probably get me fired.”

Cherry put her hand on his. He started slightly. “I wouldn’t want that to happen. Does she spend a lot of time with Fenn?”

“Yeah … I only work nights, but he’s up there a lot. They came in pretty late last night. Well after midnight. God knows what they’re up to, a cop and a psychiatrist.”

Cherry was stroking his middle finger now. “I think I know what they’re doing,” she said in a husky voice. “Probably fucking.”

Richard was trembling now.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I could convince you, so I won’t try …”

“Well …”

“You just tell Dr. Lochmere that Cherry was here. Not the cop, only Lochmere, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow night and see if I can make you break some rules.”

Cherry ran fingers over his lips and left. She felt, rather than saw, him slump down in his chair. It would’ve been easy enough to seduce Richard and get up to Lisa’s room, but there was time. Tomorrow night, if she indeed came back, he’d be begging to give her a key. Men were like that.

Cherry winked at the doorman on her way out and disappeared into the night.

This night, only Stadtler and Zero showed up for the meeting. Zero made them drinks and said, “I’m afraid we have trouble.”

Stadtler’s hand shook as he gulped his whiskey. “How so?”

“Mr. Grimes.”

“Where is he? Has he done something?”

“He’s told someone of our activities.”

Stadtler lost what color he had left. “Shit! I knew it.”

“He told our man Soames everything.”

“That fucking pimp?”

Zero nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“Why for chrissake?”

“Blackmail, I would guess. Our association with Soames predates that of ours with you. Grimes and I spoke on the phone. He said Soames had photographs of him and … others. Items his wife wouldn’t approve of. Soames wanted to know what was happening to the girls he’d gotten for us.”

“Bastard.”

“I’m afraid so. You shouldn’t worry, though. He’s never seen your face.”

“But he knows my fucking name. Shit, this is just great.”

“I don’t think he’ll go to the police. I have incriminating evidence on him.”

Stadtler was trembling. “It can’t be anything like he has on us.”

“No, but—”

“But, nothing, Zero. If he goes to the fucking cops, they’ll probably cut him a deal. Give him immunity from prosecution to testify against us.”

“I hadn’t considered that.”

Sweat was boiling from Stadtler’s face. “Shit, use your head man. We have to get outta town.”

“Calm down.”

“You fucking calm down.”

“Please, we have time yet. There’s more.”

Stadtler shook his head. “Great.”

Zero refreshed his drink. “Our Mr. Grimes has unfortunately taken his life. The scandal, guilt, perhaps.”

“Killed himself?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s only you and me. You can …” He stopped and rubbed his eyes. “You can do what you want, but I’m getting out of town. That girl upstairs …”

“She knows nothing. Her mind is blank.”

“Yeah … but … she …” Stadtler’s head was swimming. “I have to go … I don’t … I don’t feel well …”

“I think you’ll stay.”

Stadtler rose up, but he had no strength. Zero pushed him back down.

“You’ll stay and in time, you won’t remember a thing.”

He looked into Zero’s eyes and the world went dark and he slumped unconscious. It never even occurred to him that he’d been drugged.

Zero brought him upstairs. “Goodbye, Mr. Stadtler,” he said. “Next stop, a whole new you.”

Sometimes it surprised Eddy the lengths he was willing to go to for a friend. It wasn’t enough that he’d robbed Spider’s apartment of books and other oddities. It wasn’t enough that he’d stolen his corpse—and no easy task it was. Now he was getting meat for the bastard.

And he’d always thought such devotion was beyond him.

He put a gold loop earring in his right ear and wore a black longshoremen’s chook and pea coat. His long, dark hair was now cut shoulder-length and he’d put on a false mustache and sideburns. He decided no one would recognize him. He wanted to look just like another fag fresh off the boats.

He chose a club named Smiley’s that he knew was frequented by gays and pulled up a stool at the bar. It being just after noon, there were few people in there as yet. Less than a dozen older, unsightly queens dropped him rakish winks, but he ignored them. He found them sickening in their gowns and lace and crudely applied make-up, little of which did anything to hide the mileage under their garish hoods.

Eddy had a special type in mind.

Young, meaty, easy to control. A few swarthy young bucks tight with muscle and smooth asses propositioned him, but he declined. They whispered juvenile obscenities in his ears, trying to lure him into the lavatory for a quick round of buggery. But he didn’t have time for fun and games, he was here on business. Any other time such simple amusement would’ve been acceptable, but not now. After some thirty minutes of laboring over a weak Bacardi and Coke, the right one sat down next to him. Plump with a shaven head and no gaudy attire. He looked rather like a businessman on lunch break with his somber gray suit and tie.

“Could I buy you a drink?” he asked meekly. “Friends call me Pearl.”

Eddy smiled. Yes, this was the one. The subservient air about him was ideal. “Sure,” he replied. “That’ll do for starters.”

Pearl blushed and placed the orders.

Eddy knew this one would do just as he was instructed and that was the way it had to be. Pearl, as he called himself, was a newcomer to the stage of rough trade. And that was something more in his favor. Eddy would play the part of the veteran queer and lead his young and eager quarry into what he thought were the secret realms of his own closet fantasy world. And Eddy himself, the seasoned maritime degenerate, would even indulge in a bit of dirty play with him before the knives came out and the messy work began.

They chatted for a time, Eddy and Pearl, but it was mostly a one-sided conversation in which Pearl spoke of the miseries of heterosexual relationships. And the more he drank, Eddy noted, the worse those miseries became. Soon enough, misery wasn’t adequately descriptive of the hell he’d endured. Words like
atrocious, barbarous,
and
criminal
soon came into play. Pearl had suffered at the hands of women. As all men have, Eddy told him, suppressing a smile.

“That’s women for you, mate,” he said. “Every time they spread their legs, their meters are running. Gets so an honest swab like myself can’t break off a piece of fun without paying the tab.”

“Yes!” Pearl said. “Exactly.”

“That’s why a couple of shipmates like you and I can understand each other.”

“And then some.”

“Shall we take a walk?” Eddy offered in a lecherous voice.

“Where?”

“A little place I know. Not far,” he said, then: “As the crow flies, mate.” He was laying the sailor business on a bit thick, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It was all endlessly amusing. It was all he could do to not burst out laughing with his own hammy performance, most of which was borrowed from bad movies, but Pearl didn’t seem to notice.

They walked arm in arm, talking and laughing like two old friends thrown together by chance. They only paused once when Pearl said he could wait no longer. Alcohol had made him quite bold, so Eddy led him into an alley and Pearl unzipped him while he counted the bricks on the opposite wall.

“What do we have here?” Pearl said playfully, pulling Eddy’s pants beyond his knees.

“A little treat,” Eddy assured him.

Pearl went down on him with drunken abandon.

“Was that good?” Pearl inquired, flushed and wiping seed from his lips.

“Lovely.”

“Want to do me?”

“Later.”

Pearl nodded. “But it was good?”

“Yes.”

“You’re so much easier to please than my wife was. I’m glad you liked it.”

Eddy moaned. “Oh, that was wonderful, mate. You’ll have to ship out with me one day. Life on the water suits our kind.”

“Is there many … with our tastes?” Pearl needed to know.

“More than not.”

Eddy took a roundabout route to the house where Spider waited, in case they were being followed. On the way he told of his mythical adventures on the high seas. Of the intimacy men share in close quarters and the carefree days of sodomy and indulgence on a ship of fools. Pearl was beginning to talk as ludicrously as he before they reached their destination, spouting like some swabby from an old Warner Brothers picture.

Finally, the house: old, dark, decaying.

“This it, captain?” Pearl giggled.

“Aye, this be me lodgings,” Eddy told him.

Pearl pushed drunkenly through the door. “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum,” he shouted in the black interior.

Eddy smiled. “And dead men tell no tales,” he whispered under his breath. It was all so terribly easy, so effortless. Some things were just meant to be.

“Got anything to drink, captain?” Pearl asked when they were together in the living room. “Just one more would suit me fine.”

The living room had no furnishings save for a sofa with a nasty lilt and a set of insect-ravaged curtains. There was a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen and Eddy fetched it, along with some ice and two glasses.

“You definitely need a woman’s touch here,” Pearl laughed.

“I only live here when I’m not on the boats.”

“Still …”

It was a charmless old house and Eddy liked it that way. The Realtor had handed it over, as is, for a song. Given the neighborhood and the bad plumbing and ancient wiring, it was a fair deal. The place hadn’t been lived in for two years. It was dusty, dirty, and decaying, just short of being condemned by the city. But it was home.

Eddy and Pearl sat on the sofa and drank. Pearl was quite intoxicated and whatever inhibitions he’d formerly held had long ago been washed away by the booze. He’d stripped himself down to his pants now and a word from Eddy and they’d go, too.

Pearl leaned against him and brushed his lips with his own. His eyes were rheumy and unfocused. One good blow would put him out for the night and so much the better. His fingers played at Eddy’s crotch.

“Again?” he asked.

“Something better,” Eddy told him and helped him up. “Follow me.”

Pearl did, holding onto Eddy’s hand and nibbling drunkenly at his neck. Eddy brought him across the room to a set of oak sliding doors. They might have been grand things at one time, but now they were defaced with names and initials and crude drawings. A reek of cat piss hung in the air.

“Have you a pussy about?” Pearl asked.

They both laughed.

Eddy opened the doors.

“What’s in here, captain? Is this where you bury your treasure?” Pearl giggled.

“Yes, my treasure, it is.”

They went in and Eddy closed the doors. He turned on the light, a single bare bulb protruding from an ancient fixture on the wall.

“Dim in here, captain.” Pearl looked around. He pointed to a mattress shoved in the corner. “Is that where you sleep?”

“No, not me. Take off your pants.”

“I never disobey an order,” Pearl told him and begin to slip from his pants and underwear. He dropped them to the floor in a heap and fondled his length. He seemed quite impressed with himself.